Paintbrushes
by redrosemary
Summary: Elissa Cousland was once a painter and noblewoman. Now she's a Warden, off to a very improbable mission. With her friends and a couple of paintbrushes, will she defeat the Blight and her own demons?
1. Chapter 1

**DISCLAIMER**: I don't own anything. I wish I did. I just play here. :)

This is my first fan fic set in DAO. I haven't decided whom I'll pair Elissa with, but it's either Alistair or Rory. Elissa is a Rogue, wielding a sword and a dagger, and was conscripted against her will.

* * *

Rory had known Lady Elissa—Elissa, he corrected himself—since they were children. Once upon a time, before she became a solitary, sad thing, he thought as he watched her sharpen her swords or spar with Alistair, she wielded paintbrushes and scribbled on just about anything.

"Don't My-Lady me, Rory, for the love of the Maker," Elissa snapped at him when she met him again at the Lothering chantry. She embraced him tightly. "Maker knows… Oh Rory, I'm so glad you survived."

Paintbrushes, for the love of the Maker, paintbrushes. She used to get in trouble with Aldous for scribbling drawings and sketches of just about anything on the margins and cover pages of any and every book in the Cousland library. He learned from the servants that she painted murals in her rooms, and whenever she was bored, whitewashed them and painted over them again. Flowers, dragons, lords and ladies in their fineries, soldiers marching, she painted anything. And when she was twelve, shortly after he was accepted in her father's service, she made a childish bust still accurate sketch of him.

* * *

_"Rory, you look funny," she had said. She had also drawn him in a jester's trappings._

_"Elissa, I'm gonna get you for that!" he snapped. He felt incensed, his masculine pride hurt. He chased her around Castle Cousland and demanded that he give her the sketch. _

_"Over my dead body, newbie!" she taunted. "I'm the Teyrn's daughter, and I can do whatever I want. I think tomorrow I'm gonna color this sketch and show it to Fergus." _

_Finally he caught up with her, and wrestled the drawing. He promptly tore it into four pieces. _

_He did not expect what was coming. Elissa Cousland, that charming girl with thick brown pigtails, punched him with all the strength she had. She wrestled him until the Maker only knew when. Finally, he thought he heard Fergus come into the room. _

_"Elissa, what in the Maker's name!" Fergus shouted. "That is most unladylike! Roland, are you alright?" Fergus extended a hand to the bloodied boy. _

_"Fergus, this brat tore my drawing!" she cried, tears running down her cheeks. She turned to Rory. "I'll tell Dad, you see, Rory, I'll tell my father and you'll be sent back to that whatever place you come from!" _

_"Lord Fergus, forgive me," Rory said, blood gushing down his nose. "I am so sorry for the trouble I have caused." _

_"Elissa, you naughty girl," Fergus said sternly, "what in the Maker's name happened?"_

_"Fergus, he tore my drawing," she said defiantly. "He tore my drawing, Fergus, he deserved what he got." She showed her brother the torn pieces of paper. "I should have his head for it!" _

_"My Lord Fergus, I sincerely apologize for the trouble I have caused," Rory said, trying to hold back tears. He was really afraid now. What if he were to be sent back to his father in Hunter Fell, a disgrace, who could not even last a week in the Teyrn's service? _

_ "You will not get anybody's head, little sister," he said patiently, "that is not the way of a just lord. Now let me have a look at what you made the poor lad bleed for." _

_Fergus could not help but laugh at Elissa's drawing as she pieced it together. Even he had to admit it that Elissa drew the new lad's face accurately, but he also knew he must not tolerate his sister's bratty behavior. And she must learn how to channel her talent to better purposes. _

_"Elissa," he said sternly, "you and I will have a little talk later. And Father will know of this. Now go to your room." _

_Fergus turned to Rory. _

_"Lad, best you go to the infirmary to tend to your wound," Fergus said. "And… don't tell anybody about this incident."_

_Rory never told another soul since. And he never knew if the Teyrn or the Teryna disciplined Elissa about the matter. She never apologized to him about it. One thing was for sure, though. She was much nicer to him after it, and never sketched him again. _

* * *

Rory supposed that Elissa's talent in wielding swords and daggers were partly due to her painting ability. By the Maker, the girl's hand was very strong, but controlled. He watched earlier as she stabbed a Hurlock Alpha with her dagger, and beheaded him with her sword. He heard her speak kind words to the Dwarven merchant Bodhan and his son. And then he saw her graceful movement when a small statuette caught her eye. Judging from the way she touched it, she clearly liked it very much.

Life at camp with the Wardens was both different and familiar. Familiar, because he was no stranger to camping with soldiers. Different, because his lady was now his fellow soldier. He still saw brief snatches of grace that Elissa grew up with. He remembered how fond she was of red dresses, and how she used to hide a dagger in her corset, just for the fun of it. And now she was clad in leather, ugly leather as she would have called it when she was fifteen.

"Rory, would you like some dinner?" Elissa handed him a bowl of stew that Alistair had prepared. "It's not much, but it's hot."

"My lady, there's no need to serve me yourself—"

"Rory, don't My-Lady me," she said sadly. "Just don't. I'm just a Warden now."

* * *

_Rory and Elissa took lessons together; Fergus was much older, and he had duties elsewhere. She was brilliant, mischievous sometimes, but good-hearted. He saw how Elissa had no playmates, and as if to compensate, drew on every piece of paper she found on her spare time._

_On her thirteenth birthday, just before the feast in her honor he presented her with several new paintbrushes and some tubes of paint in a myriad of colors. He wanted to give her his present before she got lost in her own birthday party. _

_Elissa looked stunning in a red and gold gown. Her womanly curves were beginning to show, though her body had not yet lost its childishness. Her hair was curled elaborately and was tied artfully at the base of her neck. She wore a cameo pendant suspended by black lace on her neck. _

_"Happy birthday, Elissa," he said demurely. He felt that he should no longer address her so informally. "My lady, please don't open it until later—" _

_But he was too late. Elissa had ripped the package, and her eyes glowed. _

_"By the Maker, Rory!" she exclaimed, "I hope you didn't have to pay much for these! Thank you ever so much."_

_"Anything for you, my Lady Elissa," he mumbled. She hugged him tight and kissed him on the cheeks absentmindedly. _

_"Oh, Rory, stop acting like we aren't friends. Don't My-Lady me, I'm not my mother," she said. _

_"Well, you certainly look the part now, Elissa," he answered. _

_"You got me the shade of red that I've been looking for," she said excitedly as she held one tube. "I'll paint Fergus's portrait the day after tomorrow, he needs to send a picture of himself to Antiva." _

_She scurried off to her studio excitedly, and he was amazed that she never tripped while running in those red dresses she was so fond of. He hoped that she would make it to her own birthday party in time. Then he touched his cheek, where she had kissed him._

_Several weeks later, he saw Fergus's portrait, painted meticulously and wonderfully by his sister. He also saw more walls covered in paintings of happy townsfolk and dancing couples. _

_No, it didn't matter at all that he spent three months of his stipend on those paintbrushes and paints. _

* * *

**Comments and reviews are always appreciated. Thanks!**

~RedRoseMary


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two folks! As usual, I don't own anything here, I just play here. :) **

* * *

"AAAAAAAAHHHH!" Elissa screamed in her sleep. Everyone in the camp, except the icy Morrigan, turned to her.

Rory, Leliana and Alistair jumped to her side.

"Bad dream, huh?" Alistair asked.

"Maker damn it, what the hell was that?" she said. "It was… nothing I've even imagined."

They had just left the village of Lothering. He felt really bad about it, considering that the Darkspawn might actually claim it very soon. But he made a choice to follow Elissa, help her in her Grey Warden missions, and, buried deep in his heart, to protect her as he had sworn to her father a long time ago.

Alistair and Elissa proceeded on talking about the consequences of being a Grey Warden, how they would hear the Archdemon in their sleep and sense darkspawn. Rory would be lying if he said that _that_ didn't bother him. He went back to his tent, and examined his things.

There was the sword he had nicked from the castle treasury, one of the Teyrn's, perhaps. And a shield that bore the Cousland coat of arms, which he had picked up from a fallen comrade. It still pained him to see those. He kept on searching his pack, until he saw what he was looking for—a paintbrush not unlike the one he had given Elissa on her thirteenth birthday, and some blue paint.

He had bought these from a merchant in Lothering. As much as his conscience bothered him about the merchant's unscrupulous methods, in the end he traded an old locket—one of the few things he had from childhood—for the brush and the blue paint.

When he emerged, he saw Elissa sitting silently and staring at her food.

"Alistair's stew is not really that bad, you know," he said jovially as he approached her.

"What?" She was startled.

"Nothing, my la—Elissa. I just wanted to say that you can always rely on me if you need to."

"Thanks," she said flatly, and looked away.

"Also..." Rory began.

"Yes?"

"Never mind. I was going to get more stew, I wanted to ask if you wanted more?"

"Oh, thanks. But there's no need to serve me, I'm not a noblewoman anymore." She got up and helped herself to more stew before telling the party that they were soon off to Redcliff.

Rory would have to wait for a better time to give her the brush.

* * *

Redcliff was in deep trouble. No, that's an understatement, he thought. They were in unimaginably deep trouble.

Elissa had talked to Bann Teagan, the compassionate de facto ruler of the dismal place; Murlock the mayor; the Revered Mother, whom she persuaded one way or another to lie; Ser Perth, the polite knight; and the heartbroken smith Owen, whom she also persuaded to create armor for the villagers. She even convinced the barkeep Lloyd to fight and give the militia free ale.

They waited til nightfall, and then he saw one of his worst nightmares—walking corpses. Elissa motioned for Alistair and Rory to ready their ranged weapons, and for Morrigan to be alert in her spells.

"Maker help us," Rory heard the Redcliff knights behind him say.

They defeated the first, second, third wave of undead… it was surreal. Elissa was ruthless, decapitating one corpse here and another one there, moving swiftly and evading the heavier blows, which he and Alistair took. Finally, the attacks from the castle stopped.

"Do you think there's more?" she asked the party.

"With each foe that we fell, and each puny villager who dies, our enemies are increased, as you may have noticed," said an irate Morrigan. "Oh, Elissa, you and your big heart. One day that would be the source of your undoing."

"Elissa, you can't possibly abandon these people. Morrigan, how could you suggest—" Rory said.

"That's enough," Elissa countered, as a messenger arrived to tell them that monsters were attacking from the lake.

"Great," Alistair grumbled.

Alistair, Elissa, Morrigan and Rory ran towards the Chantry, where the villagers had set up defenses. They were outnumbered, but with Elissa and Alistair present, the militia's hearts were lifted. They fought ferociously against their undead invaders. Finally, thankfully, dawn came and the monsters stopped attacking.

* * *

Rory was severely wounded during the fight, as he taunted those which attacked Elissa. He returned to camp to fix up his wounds; Morrigan was no great healer. He was promptly replaced by Leliana, who helped bandage him before she left.

He fidgeted in his tent with the paintbrush. When would he give it to Elissa? He decided that the moment she returned to camp, he would present it to her.

* * *

Elissa looked exceptionally weary when she returned. She was decidedly avoiding Alistair, who also refused to talk. Rory thought that Morrigan wouldn't be one to chat, so he decided to ask Leliana.

"Alistair is the heir to the throne," Leliana answered. "We just learned it this morning. Naturally, she almost feels betrayed that he didn't tell her. She is after all our leader."

A silence ensued.

"But we really can't blame Alistair," Rory said. "Things must also be difficult for him."

"Perhaps," Leliana said, "but you also have to think about her, no? She makes all the hard decisions here. At any rate, we're off to the Circle tower tomorrow at daybreak. The arl's son needs, err, the assistance of more mages."

Rory mustered his courage. Maker knew, if he couldn't give Elissa his gift, which had been sitting idle in his pack for weeks now, the paint would dry up.

"Elissa?" he said as he approached her in her usual corner.

"Oh, Rory. I didn't notice you," she said authoritatively. "You need something?"

"No, not really," he said. "I thought you might need something. You know… you've never really talked about what happened."

"No, I haven't," she said. "Nor do I want to. We have a Blight to defeat. And if I may remind you, Ser Gilmore, it is not your place to question the Teryn's daughter."

She stopped abruptly, as if remembering her place. "I'm sorry, Rory," she whispered. "Best not to talk to me right now." She turned to leave, but Rory took her hand.

"You need to talk about it, Elissa," he said softly. "But I understand if you can't do it now. At any rate… alright, no more sad talks. I wanted to give you something I bought in Lothering."

Rory held up the paintbrush and the tube of blue paint. Elissa's eyes grew wide.

"By the Maker! A paintbrush!" she exclaimed.

That was the first time Rory had seen her smile in weeks. She hugged him tight and proceeded to her tent to retrieve pieces of cloth where she could paint.

Next time, Rory thought, I'm going to get her an easel.

* * *

**A/N:** I took some liberty here-Alistair told Elissa the truth about his parentage after the attack on the village. Just for dramatic effects.

**Reviews and comments are always welcome! :) **

**~RedRoseMary**


	3. Chapter 3: Blue Paint

**Usual disclaimer here. Bioware owns everything. :) **

* * *

_No_, Rory was not distraught that the first thing Elissa painted was her version of the Archdemon and a horde of darkspawn. At least, that's what he told himself. He had given her a grim color—dark blue—and it wasn't exactly her fault that the darkspawn were dark.

Nor did Rory feel upset when he saw her paint blue skeletons wearing what seemed to be her mother and father's court dresses, and soldiers bearing the Cousland coat of arms. Nope, he wasn't upset. Or at least, he wouldn't show her how deeply upset he was. Not that she cared, though, she barely talked except to issue orders or ask about the party if they were wounded.

Alistair and Leliana had been troubled by her dark paintings as well. Alistair, because he thought that the Joining affected Elissa's mind differently, and Leliana, because she thought that keeping such dark thoughts in her head might drive her crazy. Only Morrigan thought that Elissa had painted the darkspawn quite accurately, and suggested that she get other colors so as to portray them even more vividly. Sten, on the other hand, respected her talent greatly.

Alistair and Leliana confronted Rory, while they were mending their armors.

"Rory, did you think the paints were a good idea?" Alistair asked. "Elissa's graphic Archdemon things are quite scarier than my nightmares sometimes."

"We all have our own demons, Alistair," Leliana answered. "But she's making more of her demons that way. I think she needs to talk about it."

"I'm really sorry," Rory began. "When we were younger she used to paint a lot. She painted what she felt, what she saw. When I saw the paints in Lothering, I thought that she would appreciate it. I didn't really realize that she would paint darkspawn and the skeletons of her parents."

"I don't think Elissa is ready to talk," Alistair observed.

"She needs to talk it out, before it eats her," Leliana commented.

"We grieve in different ways," Alistair said. "Maybe staying strong and silent is her way."

Alistair tried to lighten the mood. "Next time, Rory, tell her to downplay the entire darkspawn eats the world thing and maybe paint our dinner for a change. Or some devout flying dogs eating from a giant cheese wheel."

"What was she like when she was younger?" Leliana asked. "The silent, astute observer?"

"No," Rory said. "She was quite a precocious child. You have no idea…"

* * *

_It was the eve of Rory's knighting ceremony. He was excited, but also quite nervous. What would one feel? He wanted to scream and shout, and ask his father if he was proud of him. He wanted to see Elissa and hear what her opinion would be. She had an opinion on _everything_. _

_Rory had to fast that night, and had to be pure for the ceremony. He was readying himself for the vigil, when he heard a knock on his door. _

_"Rory, I wanted to congratulate you," she said. "You're almost a knight now." _

_He was unsure what to say. The past few months, they had been taking fewer classes together. She had to learn about literature, history, social graces, governance, politics and economics, in addition to arms training. He, on the other hand, had only arms training and on the job practices. He also had to help train the younger squires and guard recruits._

_He noticed how she had changed; her body was that of a woman now. Her simple violet dress betrayed her womanly curves, and it didn't help that her neckline was scooping. _

_"Anyway, I need to rest now. Tomorrow morning I have dance lessons," she said, somewhat authoritatively but lovingly at the same time. "Here, I want you to have this. A lady's token of favor, or some such thing. You knights have a strange thing for ladies' scarves." _

_She handed him a red scarf and a small portrait of a knight in full armor, bearing the Cousland coat of arms, and signed "Regards from your Lady Elissa." Her fingers lingered on his. _

_"I didn't get much time to paint something bigger," she explained. "I'm sorry. To be honest, I forgot all about your knighting." _

_"Elissa—" He pulled her closer and kissed her. He expected to be struck by lightning, to hear her father or her brother's screams of betrayal, or that she slap him in the face for such insubordination. _

_To his surprise, she kissed fiercely back. _

_He would have years and years with which to see that she had emphasized "your" in her inscription. _

* * *

"I understand you have given her the paintbrush?" Sten asked one day.

"Come again?" Rory said.

"The paintbrush," Sten repeated. "You have given the Warden the paintbrush, which she uses to amuse herself. It is a worthy pastime."

"Oh…" Rory said, dumbfounded. "Well, you see one painting of darkspawn, you've seen them all."

"She wields the paintbrush as she wields her sword, I noticed," the giant said. "The Qun demands that women be artisans, priests, or homemakers, not warriors who wield blades. But the Warden wields her paintbrush as she wields her swords—with certainty. She knows every stroke and its effects on the cloth. She knows that she cannot take back her strokes, and that is why she is careful but focused. She has but one color, but it matters not. In her hands, dark blue has become many colors. She imagines her foes, and does not fear them. She knows their anatomy well, and this will serve her greatly."

At least one of the party appreciated Elissa's paintings, morbid and surreal as they were. Next time, Rory thought, I'll get her other colors.

* * *

The Circle Tower, for all its abominations and demons, had a marvelous treasure trove of chalks, crayons, papers, and as luck would have it, paintbrushes and paints. While Elissa was busy discussing the matter with the Knight Commander and the First Enchanter, Rory asked the Quartermaster if he could have some of the art materials. The Quartermaster agreed, and didn't charge him anything. They owed their lives after all to the Wardens.

Wynne, the enchanter, noticed Rory taking his fill of crayons and paints.

"You are a painter, I take it?" Wynne asked, as if to a student. "The enchanters use paints, chalks and other things to teach apprentices. Sometimes the apprentices use those to highlight their notes as well. But we won't need those anymore."

"No, Wynne," Rory answered, "it's for Elissa. Maker knows she needs more color in her world."

"I see. Come, follow me, I'll take you to where we store such things."

Rory was very happy indeed, even though he had faced his worst nightmares in that very place. Wynne had given him the entire spectrum of colors, and he couldn't wait to give them to Elissa.

* * *

_"You will break the relationship off, Ser Gilmore," Teyrn Bryce said. It was not a request, it was a command. And it was not the command of a just lord to his loyal constituent; it was the command of a stern and ruthless king to a subject. He had not heard him use that tone before. "You will remember your place, as a knight in my service, and a loyal one I might add. I will forget that this has transpired, but will not be merciful should this be repeated." _

_The Teyrn looked at the nervous young man in front of him. Rory didn't know what to make of it. Finally, he was dismissed. _

_"One last thing, Ser Gilmore," the Teryn said as Rory was leaving. "You will address her as 'Lady Cousland' or 'My Lady' from now on." _

_"Yes, my Lord," Rory said. "You are most kind." And he truly meant it. _

_It was the fault of an elven servant who had seen him and Elissa wrapped in a passionate embrace. The elf told Nan, who told the Teyrna, who told the Teyrn. Thankfully, the rumors did not spread like wildfire. Servants and soldiers alike respected the Cousland family, and not just because of their rank._

_It was days when he saw Elissa again. She was escorted by another knight and attended by three handmaids. Her hair was set in two buns at the base of her neck, like most fashionable ladies of the court. She did not look at him, and proceeded to her lesson. _

_She also was not present in her arms training. Apparently, she was being mentored now by another captain, who wielded two swords instead of the customary sword and shield. He thought that that at least was a comfort, remembering that she found wielding a shield difficult but was very efficient in dual swords. _

_When he went to sleep that night, a maidservant knocked on his door to give him a package. "From my Lady Cousland," she said. "She also tells me to instruct you that she commands you to be discreet." _

_He opened it to see a panorama painting of men at arms training, a lord overlooking his constituents, the court assembled, and a young couple kissing. He did not know what to make of it. _

* * *

**A/N: I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing. :) **

**~RedRoseMary**


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